


A Little Tied Up

by Persiflage



Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [16]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bernie Wolfe: World's Okay-est Lesbian, Canon Schmanon, Chains, Cheerfully Ignoring Any and All Canon as the Lord Intended, Established Relationship, F/F, Light Angst, Massage, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Post-Canon, Serena Campbell: Bisexual Extraordinaire, Shower Sex, Tumblr Prompt, discussions of bondage, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:49:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27890284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Post-canon established relationship featuring a discussion of bondage.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: Mashed Up Tropes Fics [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960414
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	A Little Tied Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sanctitatem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctitatem/gifts).



> Written for doctorjameswatson for the Mashed Up Tropes Meme on Tumblr, for the tropes: 70. Locked in a Room and 92. Kink

“I can’t believe you got us locked in here,” Serena whispers furiously.

“I didn’t,” Bernie says coolly. “You were the one busy snogging me in the corner and didn’t take any notice of the wardens saying they were closing in five minutes.” She lowers her voice as she continues, “You were the one who got turned on by the restraints.”

Serena feels a surge of arousal return as she thinks of chaining or tying Bernie to their bed. It’s a bit embarrassing to her to feel so much desire at this idea, and yet, at the same time, she wants to have Bernie at her mercy for once.

“And you weren’t?” she asks, raising one eyebrow.

“A little,” Bernie says with a shrug. “But not at much as you, clearly.”

Serena scowls. “I should chain you up right now,” she says crossly.

Bernie snorts. “And how would you explain that to the wardens when they return in a few minutes.”

“What makes you think they will?”

“There’s a motion sensor in that corner,” Bernie points it out, “and a CCTV camera up there. That’s enough tech to tell them someone’s still in here. We just have to wait for them to get us out.” She nuzzles Serena’s neck, making her shiver. “And why is it, Campbell, that I’m only now finding out about your kinky fantasies of restraining me? We were dating for two years before we got married, and it’s been nearly three years since then. Were you ever planning on telling me that you wanted to tie me up and have your wicked way with me?”

Serena shivers again at the lust and something else in Bernie’s low voice –something dark, she thinks. 

“I –” She gets no further because the door starts to creak open and Bernie lets go of her, stepping from behind her to stand next to her instead, then she feels Bernie’s fingers tangle with her own and she squeezes her hand. Bernie glances sideways at her and Serena feels a resurgence of desire when she sees how dark her wife’s eyes have gone. 

They make their apologies to the warden who lets them out of the armoury, then hurry down two flights of stairs, out of the castle doors, and across the car park to where Bernie had parked earlier in the day.

“Take me home so I can ravish you,” Serena orders and feels a thrill of excitement when Bernie tosses her a salute across the top of the car, before unlocking it and scrambling inside. Serena pulls the passenger door open and gets in, quickly closing the door again, before tugging her seat belt across. “Drive,” she says sternly.

Bernie reverses energetically out of her space, twists the steering wheel around, and shoots the car across the car park.

“Don’t get us killed,” Serena says quickly. “Or break the speed limit.”

“Ma’am.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They arrive home safely and without breaking the law, and climb quickly out of the car, then move through the garage and into the house, Serena pausing briefly in the garage to close the door and to collect a particular item she remembers is stowed away securely in there.

Bernie’s already gone upstairs, her leather jacket and her ankle boots both in their usual spots. Serena sheds her own wool coat and boots, then starts up the stairs just as her wife calls out, “Come on, Campbell, what’s keeping you?”

Serena growls wordlessly, then hurries upstairs and into their bedroom. Bernie’s turned on both lamps, closed the curtains, and set out Serena’s favourite toy and the bottle of lube. She’s just emerging from the ensuite, carrying a bath sheet to put on the bed, which she’s already turned down, when Serena walks into the room. 

“You took your time,” she begins when she spots Serena, then swallows audibly. “Oh.”

Serena smirks at her wife’s reaction to the length of chain in her hands.

“I – um – I was expecting you to use rope or handcuffs,” Bernie says.

Serena raises an eyebrow. “And where would I find those without going shopping first?”

Bernie frowns. “There’s bondage rope and soft handcuffs in the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. I didn’t buy them. I thought you must have and then never – I don’t know – had the courage to use them? Or changed your mind about wanting to.”

“Bloody hell,” Serena says, shocked. “I’d forgotten about that.”

Bernie raises her eyebrows, a look of disbelief in her eyes, and Serena hastens to explain. “They were part of a set that Sian and Fleur gave me at my hen do. There’s a mask in there, too, and a couple of toys. Remember that Rampant Rabbit thing neither of us really liked?”

“Huh, yeah. Bloody thing.”

Serena can’t help chuckling at Bernie’s disdain for the toy in question. “I truly had forgotten about that stuff.”

Her wife shrugs. “It’s fine, Serena. So, are you going to use the chain, or do you prefer to finally make use of Sian and Fleur’s gifts?”

“Let’s use the softer stuff,” Serena says. She drops the chain outside the door to their room, then closes and locks the door. When she turns around, Bernie’s spreading the bath sheet over the bed, so she goes to the drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe and slides it open. As she shoves things aside, looking for the black bag that holds the stuff Sian and Fleur gave her she can’t help recalling her hen do. Her friends had insisted that she and Bernie should have separate events on different nights and neither one could attend the other’s. Sian and Fleur had arranged Serena’s, while Morven and Donna had arranged Bernie’s. They’d both had a stripper – Serena’s had been a young man about Cam’s age who was clearly well-endowed, and she’d heard Morven and Fleur discussing Bernie’s stripper, who’d been a woman of about forty who’d had a very well-endowed chest, by their account. Apparently, Bernie had gone bright red and tried to hide in the ladies’ loos until Fleur and Donna had dragged her out and forced her to sit still while the stripper put on her show. Fleur had teased her about it for a couple of weeks afterwards, repeatedly embarrassing Bernie until, in the end, she’d threatened to silence Fleur painfully. Serena’s friend had taken the threat to heart and never mentioned it again.

She finds the bag she’s looking for at last, the name of the sex toy emporium printed in bright red across it. She shoves the drawer closed, then closes the doors to the wardrobe. When she turns around her wife is lounging in the armchair by the window, long legs stretched out, ankles crossed, and her elbows resting on the chair arms.

“You’re still dressed,” she observes, and Bernie gives her a surprised look.

“Of course. I assumed you’d either want to do it yourself or you’d order me to do it.” She looks worried. “Isn’t that what this is about?” she asks. “Telling me what to do? Taking control of my pleasure? Or did I misunderstand?” She sits up straight in the chair, all sense of relaxation gone as she clamps her hands between her knees. 

Serena feels a stab of guilt at the sight. It always worries her when Bernie hunches and tries to make herself smaller.

“No, love, you didn’t misunderstand. Come here, please.” She holds out a hand, tossing the bag onto the foot of the bed.

Bernie stands and takes Serena’s hand; she steps closer, but she doesn’t attempt to kiss her or embrace her.

“I think we’ve lost our momentum,” Bernie says sadly.

“Oh.” Serena considers the situation and she can’t help thinking her wife is right. “Yes, I think we have.” She sighs, then wraps her arms around the blonde. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Bernie says. “We’ll just have to see if we can reignite the spark.”

“What do you suggest?”

“What about a shower and a massage? We usually manage to ignite sparks that way.”

“Why not,” Serena says. She pulls away from her wife, then holds out her hand again, before leading the way into the ensuite. She begins kissing Bernie, pushing her against the bathroom door while practically devouring her, which elicits a moan. And just like that the spark’s reignited for Serena. But she decides to stoke the fire a little higher, and to that end she begins unbuttoning Bernie’s shirt, helping her to slide it off, then she takes the weight of her breasts in both hands, rubbing her thumbs over her already stiffening nipples. Bernie moans again, then shifts away from the door a little, and Serena takes the hint to unfasten her bra and discard it with her shirt. She deepens their kiss as she unbuttons and unzips Bernie’s skinny jeans, then shoves them down. She begins kissing a path down her wife’s body, nipping and licking as well as kissing as she makes her way down that fabulous throat, then along her collarbones, one after the other. Her mouth leaves hot kisses and licks down the scar that bisects her chest, then diverts to bite, not too hard but hard enough, around each nipple, before she continues over Bernie’s flat stomach. She grazes her teeth over her wife’s hip bones, eliciting a familiar whine of pleasure, then she pulls Bernie’s boxer shorts down, noting the damp spot and the scent of arousal, before she licks into her sex.

Hands clutch at her head and really, Serena doesn’t need any encouragement to drive her wife to a climax. She licks deeper, her nose nudging against Bernie’s clit, then she slides two fingers into her slick heat. Bernie’s hips buck as she pushes her fingers in deep and she whines again as Serena begins to thrust hard and fast, working her to an intense climax that leaves her weak-kneed and trembling. 

As Bernie fights to regain her breath, and her stability, Serena slips her socks off, then practically peels her wife off the door. “Come on, darling, into the shower you go.”

Bernie stumbles across to the shower cubicle, stepping inside and switching it on as Serena strips out of her own clothes, then steps in behind her wife. She grabs the shower gel and starts working it into Bernie’s back, shoulders, and that very pert bum, then turns her around to do her front while the shower sluices off the gel on her back. 

“Alright?” she asks when they’re face to face.

“Very alright.”

“Good to know.”

She’s barely finished working the shower gel into Bernie’s body before the bottle is taken from her grasp and her wife repeats the process for her. Then, once the shower gel has been washed off again, she sinks to her knees, clasping Serena’s hips, and reciprocates the orgasm Serena had given her a few moments before, her fingers and mouth working in tandem to send her straight over the edge in what she’s sure is the fastest time possible. Bernie doesn’t stop at one, however, and Serena finds herself leaning against the wall of the shower cubicle, glad of its support at her back as her hips buck repeatedly under her wife’s ministrations.

“Bloody hell, woman.” Serena can’t help gasping out the words as Bernie eases back from her sex.

“Good?” she asks, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Very good,” she assures her. “Now get up here and let’s get dried off so we can get to bed.”

“I – um – I’m not sure I can,” Bernie says sheepishly. “Back’s thrown a wobbly.”

Serena tuts, reaches up to turn off the shower, then leans down. “Lift your arms.”

Her wife obeys, and Serena slides her own arms beneath Bernie’s and lifts. She doesn’t get very far as her feet start to slip on the wet floor of the shower cubicle.

“Oh, for god’s sake!” Serena snarls.

Bernie recoils with a sharp intake of breath that almost sounds like a sob. “I’m sorry,” she gasps. “I’m so sorry. I’ve spoilt everything.”

Serena feels as if she’s been slapped at the misery in her wife’s voice.

“Bernie, no. Don’t,” she says, kneeling down with her and wrapping her arms around her. She feels grateful that the shower cubicle is big enough for them both to do so. “You haven’t spoilt anything. I’m sorry I snapped at you.” 

Bernie ducks her head, burying it in the crook of Serena’s neck. “How are we going to do this?” she asks quietly.

“Do you think you could pull yourself up by holding onto the door frame?” Serena asks. “I really don’t want to have to call for an ambulance.”

“Don’t,” Bernie says sharply. “I’ll crawl out of here if I have to.”

“Let’s try getting you up with the door frame first.” Her wife nods, so she steps out of the shower cubicle as Bernie shuffles around on her knees, then grabs hold of the door frame and hauls herself upright. Serena can see the agony in her face as she straightens up and she immediately steps forward to wrap a bath sheet around her body, rubbing her dry as vigorously as Bernie can bear her to be.

“Okay, I think it’s best if we skip the experimental bondage today,” Serena says as she guides Bernie out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. “I don’t want you to risk putting your back out any more badly.”

“Okay.” Bernie whispers her agreement, allowing Serena to guide her over to the bed where she quickly gets herself situated lying on her stomach so that Serena can massage her back. 

She drops the lube, the toy, and the black bag into the bottom drawer on her nightstand, then pulls open the top one to take out the aromatherapy oil she keeps there precisely to give Bernie a massage when she needs it.

“You’re allowed to fall asleep, if you want to,” Serena tells her, uncapping the oil, then pouring some into her hand. 

“Thanks.” Bernie’s voice is muffled by the pillow in which she’s buried her face. She gasps as Serena begins but when she pauses her hands, Bernie says, “Don’t stop. Please.”

“Okay. But you know the rule – tell me if it hurts too much.”

“Mmhmm.”

Serena can’t help smiling a little at Bernie’s hum of agreement.

As expected, she’s asleep within minutes, but Serena doesn’t stop until she’s unknotted every last muscle in her wife’s back. Then she draws the duvet up over her to ensure her muscles don’t get chilled. She goes to wash her hands, puts the bottle of oil away, then sorts out their discarded clothing. Although she feels a little disappointed that they didn’t get to enact her fantasy, she doesn’t mind too much because they had some spectacular sex anyway. And there’s always another day – she has a strong feeling that Bernie isn’t going to forget what she’s learned today and that she’ll make sure Serena doesn’t forget either. Anticipation’s never killed anyone after all, so she’ll just live with the thought that at some point in the hopefully not too distant future, she’ll get to tie up Bernie Wolfe before having her wicked way with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](https://pers-books.tumblr.com/post/630074279570046976/70-and-92-im-definitely-going-to-hell).


End file.
